


Possible (7/39?)

by Mexta



Series: Possible [7]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, post-412
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:19:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1688144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mexta/pseuds/Mexta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey goes to the library</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possible (7/39?)

Mickey stood inside the small lobby trying to get his bearings. Around him there were shelves, books, computers, desks, weird-looking machines. Fuck, it was a library. Wasn't it supposed to help you find stuff out? How was he supposed to know where to start?

A woman at one of the front desks glanced his way a couple of times and then asked, "Can I help you with something?"

Relieved, Mickey put on his best fresh-school-kid face and went up to her desk. "Yeah, I'm looking for some information. For a school project I'm doing on, um, bipolar, um, ism."

"Bipolar disease?" She looked thoughtful for a minute. "Well, most of what you'll find in our textbooks and medical journals will be a little dated. You're probably better off using the databases. We can get you access to pubmed, medline. Try the computer room on the second floor."

"Okay, thank you." Mickey didn't understand most of what she said but _second floor_ and _computers_ were clear enough. He found the stairs eventually -- it's not like he'd ever been in a library before in his life -- and climbed up to the second floor.

Two hours later he trudged back down again, cursing under his breath. That had been a complete waste of time. Someone had, eventually, shown him how to get on to one of the library room computers and taken him to a couple of sites full of incomprehensible doctor-speak. Mickey couldn't read one word in two there, so he'd smiled and nodded and waited till they left. 

At least he'd seen how to spell _bipolar_. He found google and typed it in, and at first it was exciting to see all the results, until he realized they were all basically saying the same thing. _Mood swings, mania, depression, harmful, medication, see a doctor_. That was basically the gist of it, as far as he could make out through all the long and complicated words. 

None of it answered the questions he really needed to know. How did you get it? How did you cure it? When did it go away? He'd picked up that depressive episodes often lasted a couple of weeks, but when would the next cycle start? What were you supposed to do to help a person snap out of it? And what did you do to make sure they didn't off themselves in the interim? 

As he crossed back through the front lobby on the first floor the woman who had sent him upstairs came over to him, a little awkwardly. "I found these," she said, handing him what looked like a couple of pamphlets. "The clinic dropped them off with us a while ago. You know, you -- you might find more information there."

"Thank you," Mickey said automatically, and got out of there as quickly as he could. Outside, he looked down at what he was holding before quickly shoving them into his coat pocket.

Under the El line, he leaned against a post, lit a cigarette, and finally pulled the flyers out again. They didn't really say much more than he'd already seen online, but some of it was a bit more specific. Like how apparently quitting school, switching careers, or making sudden life changes could be signs of mania. Hadn't Ian done all three in the last few months? And something about out of character criminal activities; that explained the helicopter stealing. 

Mickey turned the flyer over. There was an address and phone number for a clinic -- not the one right here, where all the hookers and meth addicts hung out, but one up by the medical centre -- that claimed to be some kind of experts in bipolar disorder. 

For a few minutes Mickey considered taking the El up to the clinic right then. But he'd already been away from Ian for too long today; he needed to get back. So instead he stopped at a pay phone on a his way home and called. They gave him an appointment for the next day.

***

In the morning Ian lay silent and unresponsive when Mickey got up, on his side with the covers pulled up to his chin. Mickey knew the signs by now; this was going to be one of Ian's more catatonic days. He headed for the shower without trying to make any conversation. 

Out in the living room, Svetlana was waiting for him. Fuck, he'd forgotten it was his turn for Yevgeny today. 

"Is noon. You take baby. I go help Nika pack. Tomorrow she moves in."

Mickey lifted his eyebrows. "Tomorrow? Okay, fine, you guys can take Jamie and Joey's room." He headed for the coffee maker in the kitchen. "But keep the door shut! I don't wanna see any of that ... muff diving in my house." He lifted his hands and shuddered before he could pour the coffee.

Svetlana only looked disdainfully amused, as always. "I pack stroller for you. Diapers, bottle. You take him with you when you go out."

Mickey looked at the stroller with disgust over his coffee mug. No way was he pushing that thing around. 

When Mandy wandered into the kitchen looking for food, he tried to coax her into keeping an eye on the kid but without success. "Your kid, your problem," she mumbled, slamming a frying pan onto the stove.

"I got _ninety-nine_ problems," Mickey groused, thinking of the one inside his bedroom. 

He pushed open the door and glanced at the bed, but Ian didn't seem to have moved. Mickey pulled on jeans, a shirt and a sweater, then stood at the end of the bed and willed himself into a cheerful voice. 

"Ay. Feel like dropping by the clinic today?"

As he expected, Ian showed no sign of even hearing him. Mickey waited a couple of moments, then nodded. "Okay. No problem. We'll try another day. Goin' out for a bit now. Seeya later."

In the living room, Svetlana had bundled Yevgeny up, ready for a day outside. Mickey pulled the baby out of the bassinet, grabbed a blanket and a bottle from the stroller, and headed for the door, ignoring Svetlana's protests. 

***

This time the younger brother, Carl, opened the door. "Hey," Mickey said, holding the baby up to his shoulder. "You got something I can carry him in?"

Carl stepped back, only slightly surprised. "A stroller?"

"No, man, I don't want a stroller." Mickey followed him inside and looked under the stairs for what he remembered seeing yesterday. "There. That thing."

"The baby backpack?" Carl reached for it doubtfully. 

"Yeah. That'll work."

Carl watched while Mickey plunked the kid inside and started pulling on various straps. 

"I think my dad used that with _me_ ," he said after a while. "Maybe even with Lip. It's pretty old."

Mickey found two straps that seemed to connect, clipped them together, and bounced the contraption up and down experimentally. "Looks like it's holdin' up." He stuffed the blanket around the baby, picked up the whole thing, and swung it slowly over one shoulder. When he peered over his other shoulder looking for the second strap, Carl came forward and helped it on. 

They stood and looked at each other for a moment, until Mickey cocked his head. "You got a diaper?"

Carl went into the kitchen and came back a moment later with a diaper in one hand and a pill bottle in the other. "Here. I was supposed to give you this some time. Monica's old meds."

Not many left, Mickey could see right away. He took the bottle and shook it -- maybe eight or ten pills -- then checked the label. _Lithium_.

"Thanks." He shoved it into his coat pocket, beside the baby bottle, and the diaper into his other pocket. He was almost at the door again when Carl finally asked.

"How's Ian?" 

Mickey stopped and glanced back. "Same as before. Come by and see him some day." He pulled the door shut behind him and loped off toward the El.


End file.
